Assignment 4: LaBelle Rose

My name is LaBelle. This morning, I took my daughter and ran away from home. It began years ago but I found myself walking down a lonely path this morning, one without houses, without the presence of human life, only animals and bugs, dying trees and smelly swamps. Though this may seem to you a little eerie and maybe even dull and unwelcoming, for me it was comforting, it gave me refuge. I started walking once I got to this desolate place but it began with a run. I ran out of my house and just kept running, baby in one arm, the tears streaming down my face so that I could hardly see where I was going, stumbling over this and over that, but I kept on running, without even a hesitation.
See, I was so distraught over the ways of the world in which I live. No one around me seemed to understand. I felt captive in my own home. One would think that in this day and age and having made so much progress towards liberation for many people in my country that I could at least feel comfortable in my house. This was not the case. My husband thought I should take on the “traditional” role of being home maker, taking care of kids and cooking, cleaning, tending to his personal needs. While he had the freedom to pursue any course of life he pleased. He could leave and go to work, go back to school, or stay home when it pleased him. I thought about it and decided there was no way I could simple be a home maker. For me, I needed some other type of fulfillment. I couldn’t just live vicariously through our one child and possible future children. I felt like there was more which defines me and that I’d literally be selling myself short by denying myself the opportunity to pursue personal goals and interests.
My husband thought this was ridiculous. He decided he wanted to pull out the scriptures in the Bible which he thought justified his mentality. He said women are supposed to be submissive to their husbands and that we’re supposed to take care of the kids and house. We’ve had this discussion before and many other people I spoke to surprisingly agreed with my husband saying how things “just work out easier that way”. I ask my husband since it’s important one parent be able to stay home with the kinds, would there be a difference if I could make more money in my profession than he could in his and thus, we’d live a more comfortable life and be able to provide better for our children having me go into the work force. He told me that wasn’t how God wanted things to work. I protested. He tried to control me more with manipulation. He made me believe I was wrong and that I was going against God’s will for humanity. I imagine, now, he knew how those statements would deeply affect me. I became someone I didn’t know. I became submissive and with that I also became deeply depressed and confused. I felt miserable and unaccepted and underappreciated. And this wasn’t anything new. This was how life went on between us for years. Years of resentment, depression, pain, suffering, trying to protect my child, the breaking down of my soul. I felt that I had to make something work for the sake of our family. I wanted to want the lifestyle my husband demanded of me so that we could be a complete family.
Until this one day I said, “No more”. This was not what I wanted for myself and I definitely didn’t want my daughter to live like this now or when she decided to marry. After he’d beaten me the way he normally does, I ran. I ran, and ran, and kept on running. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do when I got somewhere but I knew I couldn’t be there. I took my baby girl with me, cuts, scrapes, bruises and all and just ran.
We kept on going until we came to this peaceful, lonely place in the middle of nowhere. A calm came over me and I was able to catch my breath. I sat down and looked into my daughter’s eyes as she then wiped my tears away. I noticed then, out of the corner of my eye, a lady. She was quiet and simply observing not out of confusion but out of empathy. She walked towards us and introduced herself as KK. I didn’t feel at all threatened; her overall demeanor was sweet, kind, and welcoming. She simply said, “Come with me. I have something to show you”. She took my hand in hers and we walked only a short distance before we came to a cobblestone bridge. She saw the confusion in my expression and answered it with a kind smile. As soon as we reached the other side of the bridge our entire surroundings changed. It was almost as if we inhaled the fragrance of love, nurture, happiness, and comfort. There were women everywhere, children laughing and playing with one another, and just a few men with welcoming expressions on their faces. Everywhere you looked you could see rose gardens. There were roses of all colors, shapes, and sizes and everybody was making rose bundles or giving people roses to decorate themselves with. I asked KK, “Where are we”? She responded by saying, “You’re in a peaceful place. A place where no one will harm you or judge you. A place where no one is asked to do anything subhuman or degrading. Everyone who is permitted here must respect everybody else. All rights for everyone. This is a place palpitating with love and appreciation for the next person”. She then said, “Let you daughter laugh and play with the other kids. We have to talk”.
She took me to a quiet garden where we could talk and then she told me how she knows who I am and what I’ve been going through. She explained to me that I am significant. KK made me understand that I am strong in spite of what my husband has said and that I have an important role in the life of my generation and in creating the life of freedom for future generations. “Every person plays an important part in society’s history by either helping or hindering the growth of humanity in the direction of positivity”.
We then strolled through the garden looking at various art pieces. Each one with a personal story. KK said, “These art works weren’t created by the people who live in this place, they were created by people, mainly women who come from the same world in which sent you running. For years, their art work was kept hidden and their value minimized. Why do you think they made such creations in spite of that”? I wasn’t exactly sure but I could feel a certain spirit moving across the art. This spirit spoke to me and said “I am a woman. I deserve to be acknowledged. I am just as valuable as a man. I too can make art which inspires and touches lives and I can do it in any medium or form, sometimes, ones you haven’t even thought of. I’m just as talented as anyone else and you will not deny me the right to live and express myself as a human ought to for I too am human and your view of me as a lesser sex is wrong. And you will see”. I knew who this spirit was referring to and I felt proud that someone could articulate those emotions aloud without anger or bitterness in its voice. These were emotions I could partially relate to but hadn’t had the courage to defend.
KK then asked me if I knew what it meant to be a feminist. I told her that I knew I didn’t feel right about how I was living. I told her that something in me was telling me that it wasn’t right and that it was unfair. I didn’t know what gave my husband authority over me. KK then informed me that the “something” which was talking to me was the tip of the iceberg of feminism. She also told me that some people believe they have authority over another kind of people and that can sometimes be against women. “Some people think that when I say I’m feminist that I’m a lesbian, that I hate men, that I must be masculine looking, that I’m trying to replace men”, she said to me, “but in actuality, I love all people and want equity for everyone no matter their gender, age, race, sexual orientation, or appearance. That’s what being a feminist is about. How I love and who I love, how a dress or express myself, as long as it’s not harmful to or oppressing towards anyone then that’s my freedom as a human being. This is a freedom we all deserve”. I began to realize that in the past, when I heard the word feminism, I sometimes made the assumptions KK said other people make. I decided two things right then and there. First, I was wrong about a lot of my assumptions regarding feminism. And secondly, I am and need to be a feminist.
KK then took me to a group of mostly women; there were only about two men there, who were working on some type of pamphlet. They explained to me that they were preparing for an event which will entertain but mostly educate a wide audience on “what is feminism”. Together we set up an all day forum for women. It feature prominent women in society to speak on topics relating to women and included a comedy skit and concert, concluded by a raffle with proceedings going towards the breast cancer initiative. I was proud to be a part of something so well purposed. I was amazed at how much can be done with only a few people and a cause. I realized that there are so many opportunities to make a difference in the world from which I ran and yet I rarely hear about anyone pushing for things like this for women’s rights. I knew things like this happened back in the 60’s and that, but it was beginning to sink in that the struggle women face has not ended and that more, much more, still needs to be done on our (and even my daughter’s) behalf. I felt I need to take initiative.
At this point, I turned to KK and said, “I’m in awe. I’m moved to do something. I want to see change and a better life for myself, my daughter, and all women around the world. But I’m also angry and don’t know how to handle that anger without jeopardizing what feminist stands for”. In her hand KK had a book called “Fight like a Girl, How to be a Fearless Feminist” by Megan Seely. “This book says that it’s ok to be a fighter. Women fight too and we ought to. People should hear more about the fights women putt up for our rights. Women can be very comforting and the stereotyped nurturer we’re usually portrayed as, but women are also fierce fighters when under attack, be it physical, territorial, or for our rights as people. This is something we, as women, ought to embrace” KK told me. “I have another book”, she said “this one is called “Feminism is for Everybody” by bell hooks. bell hooks discusses the political aspect of feminism as she’d encountered it in her life time. The struggles, though improved, are still a very realistic aspect of women’s lives. She explains the contradictions in some feminists’ lifestyles. Both books include what women need to do to keep the war against oppression a real one politically but with Megan Seely, she makes it know it’s ok to bite back whereas bell hooks takes a less fierce stand point. Both are very valuable since we need to find some kind of medium between the two, using the Megan Seely approach when appropriate and the same with bell hooks”. When I told KK I thought I was beginning to understand, she informed me there was still a long way to go.
She said, “There’s one other story that I think is important for you to read and understand, “Kindred” by Octavia Butler. This will help you to see just how much has changed. In this book you can see very clearly how society’s view on women and blacks and black women has dramatically been changed for the better. It clearly portrays many injustices to black people and women in the antebellum south of America. It’s extremely important that you know where you come from”.
After our discussion on the literature, we returned to the mass group of people working with the roses. Many of them had scratches from the thorns of the roses. I asked why don’t they just cut off the thorns and KK responded by saying, “Oh no, dear! Sometimes the thorns are the most important part. Without the thorns we may find it hard to appreciate the roses. Just the same as some people forgetting the struggle women have gone through and taking for granted all the privileges we now have because of the fight. It’s important when appreciating the accomplishments that we too remember the suffrage and appreciate those who’ve gone before us. Appreciating the thorns will also remind you of the courage you have and must utilize when fighting for more justice for all. The rose should symbolize all that can be, just as we’ve peacefully journeyed through my land, peace and equity can also be accessible to those where you come from”.
“I understand and appreciate all you’ve taught me”, I said, “because of your lessons I feel stronger. I feel empowered. Without visiting this place, I may have continued to crumble under my circumstance and my daughter would have learned to do the same. Thank you so much. How can I adequately show my gratitude”? KK then handed me almost ten dozen bundles of roses with thorns and said “Share what you’ve learned and make your world beautiful thorns and all”.
Once KK had finished her sentence I found myself back in my home being awakened by my daughter’s calls. It was the morning we’d ran away from my husband and the ten dozen bundles of roses lay around my house. My husband began the day just as he had once before, “Aren’t you going to get up and make breakfast? You don’t hear the baby”? The only difference this time around was me. I had been completely changed because of KK’s lessons. I understood why she’d taken me through the place one step at a time. She showed me first that I didn’t know what I thought I did about feminism. Then, she made me aware of my own injustices against me and those of others. Next, she explained that we all have the will to make the change we just need courage to do so. And lastly, she told me about the books: appreciating how far women have come, where we must go, and how not to be afraid to demand it. Instead of rebelling against my husband this morning and causing what I knew would turn into the fight we’d had before I went to KK’s land, I chose to tell my husband just how things were going to be.
“Yes, I hear the baby and I’m getting up to care for her. I too will be making breakfast but it will be for her and I since we’re going to be traveling today. You are a fully grown and capable man who can make his own breakfast if you’re hungry. I’m sick of you treating me as though I’m less worthy of respect than you. It’s wrong for you to oppress me the way I’ve let you and I’m not putting up with it anymore. You have the choice: continue with your inhumane thinking and ways but do it alone. Or learn to treat me with equal respect and appreciation as I award you. Until then, we will not be here. It’s time for a change. We will leave and take care of ourselves, informing other people of our story and encouraging them to make the same change. Everyone will get a rose, even you. Just be mindful not to prick your finger on its thorns”.
With that said, I made breakfast for myself and my daughter and we left. I was more than willing to back up my words. And that’s what I did. My baby and I have been giving out roses with thorns ever since.